


Demon of Samaria

by ShesAKillerQueen98



Series: One Shot Fluffs [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Ambiguous Aziraphale and Crowley Relationship (Good Omens), Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Whump (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Bad at Being an Angel (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Bandits & Outlaws, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Comforting Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Gabriel Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Hurt, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Michael Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Middle Ages, Mild Blood, Minor Violence, Mugging, Non consensual undressing, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Robbery, Sandalphon Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Scared Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sick Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Victim Blaming, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27979266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShesAKillerQueen98/pseuds/ShesAKillerQueen98
Summary: CW: Victim blaming, violence and mugging, and a character being undressed against their will (there is no sexual violence/ rape or noncon but this might still be distressing)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: One Shot Fluffs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2164884
Comments: 12
Kudos: 76





	Demon of Samaria

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Victim blaming, violence and mugging, and a character being undressed against their will (there is no sexual violence/ rape or noncon but this might still be distressing)

On the road between two cities, a man was beset by robbers, beaten, and left for dead on the side of the road. A priest passed by the man, a man of his country. But he did not stop to help A pharisee passed by, a man also of his country. But he did not stop to help. A Samaritan passed by, a man of the country of his sworn enemy. The Samaritan stopped and dressed the man’s wounds, gathered him onto his donkey and brought him to an inn, paying for the man to have a bed for the night so he could recover.

Bitterest of enemies. But in the end, closest of brothers.

* * *

Aziraphale had spent too long Durolitum and he needed to move on if he wanted to be in the next town by morning. There were so many people who needed blessings, a horrible sickness had passed through the country four decades prior and they were still reconstructing. Gabriel had just lifted his restrictions on helping had passed and those hardy enough had survived so only now was Aziraphale allowed to offer what little comfort he could. Of course that didn’t stop him from using a subtle miracle to heal some of the folks who had come down with the sickness, mostly small children because he couldn’t bear the thought of children suffering and because Gabriel and the other Archangels didn’t really stop to pay attention to the smaller humans.

It bothered him greatly but he did what he could when he could.

He had just finished blessing all those who needed it in Durolitum which had left him worn out. It had been his intention to finish up that morning, stop at the inn for a quick meal and then be on his way by noon. Unfortunately, he slept in. It was nearly half past ten when he woke up. He refused to rush through the blessings, these people had suffered enough they didn’t need an incompetent angel mucking up their lives even more. So he took his time and found out that his list of blessings was far longer than he anticipated and he was finished closer to 4:00 than noon. By the time he finished, he was absolutely famished. He stuck with his plan to partake in a brief meal at the inn and happily tucked in to his beef stew and bread, feeling a bit of his strength return to him as he ate in a cozy chair by a warm fire.

Unfortunately, he might have gotten too comfortable and dozed off. By the time he woke, it was dark outside. Goodness he was so behind! The next town he was needed in, which according to his memo was a little place called Othona, was a ten mile walk. He needed to get going!

In a bit of a chaotic jumble, he gathered his bowl and his belongings, setting the dish and a few coins on the counter.

“Thank you for your hospitality, but I really must be going.”

The innkeeper gathered the coins and looked at the angel.

“You’re going on the road?” The innkeeper asked.

Aziraphale nodded. “I was supposed to be in Othona hours ago. If I leave now, with any luck I can make it before sunup.”

“But the roads are crawling with bandits, Brother Fell.” The innkeeper warned. “It isn’t safe. Please, perhaps stay the night and be on your way in the morning?”

“I’m sorry, friend but I must-“

“I’ll even forgo the charge for the night. Please it isn’t safe.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Your concern is most touching, my friend, but I can’t afford to waste any time.”

The innkeeper sighed, at a loss for words. Finally, he looked up at Aziraphale and said, “God be with you, brother.”

Aziraphale smiled and waved to the man, offering him a quick blessing of good health before starting on his long journey into the cold night.

* * *

Michael held the clipboard and stack of files close to her chest as she briskly walked down the hall towards Gabriel’s office. The thick heels of her shoes sent loud clunks down the empty tiled hallway. As soon as the Archangel had seen the reports and looked at the observation files, she figured she should probably check with someone. If she were perfectly honest, she was content to just let things run their course without interference and she was fairly certain her fellow Archangels felt the same way. But it was always better to be safe and double check. Sometimes they surprised her.

She reached the office and heard both Gabriel and Sandalphon’s voices from behind the door. Good, better for all of them if they had as many opinions on the table as possible.

With a sharp knock and a cordial, “Come in,” Michael opened the door, faced with her two coworkers looking over the reports that had just been filed for the last 40 years on Earth. With the creak of the hinges, Gabriel glanced up, a smile on his lips when he saw his coworker.

“Michael,” he greeted, “this is quite the surprise. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” Michael stepped further into the office, closing the door behind her. “What can I do for you?”

Michael shifted the papers against her chest and set them onto the desk. On top was a black and white photo of Aziraphale wearing a lavish gray cloak and fine silk clothes. His hand was laid over the forehead of a small child, smiling a warm, soft smile. Michael shifted the picture over and revealed two humans hunching behind a bush, shadowed by a nearby hill.

“I have a report about Aziraphale.” Michael said.

The happy greeting on Gabriel’s face had morphed into annoyance and disappointment. The Archangel let out a heavy sigh.

“What has he done now?” Gabriel asked, rubbing his temple.

“Nothing, actually. In fact, something is about to happen to him.” Michael explained.

“Really?”

Michael nodded. “He’s just finished all the assigned blessings in Durolitum, as well as a few others that weren’t authorized, and is about to make the journey towards Othona.”

“So what’s the problem?” Gabriel asked, sitting in his desk chair.

“He’s traveling at night and is about to walk right into the path of bandits, wearing what is considered a fortune’s worth of clothing and a pouch full of gold. As soon as those bandits see him, it’s likely they’ll beat him, strip him, and steal everything from him.”

“Will he survive?” Gabriel asked nonchalantly.

“Unlikely, unless someone intervenes before morning.” Michael answered. “I simply wanted to ask if we wanted to step in and warn him anyway.” She gathered up the papers again. “Personally, I have no qualms about letting things take their course, but I wanted to check with you, since Aziraphale is technically your subsidiary.”

Gabriel rubbed his chin, deep in thought before he looked over to Sandalphon. “What are your thoughts?”

Sandalphon smirked. “I say it serves him right. Walkin’ out at night wearin’ all that finery.”

“I agree.” Gabriel said. “Perhaps this will serve as a lesson to Aziraphale about humility and simplicity.”

“Glad to see we’re on the same page.” Michael said, turning back towards the door. “I’ll start getting the discorporation paperwork ready.”

“When he is discorporated, send him my way.” Gabriel instructed. “I’d like to have a word with him.”

* * *

It had gotten dark early and there was no moon. Just Aziraphale’s luck. The days were starting to get shorter and colder which meant that the nights were utterly freezing. The biting wind that was blowing tonight wasn’t helping matters. Aziraphale was just lucky he had such a thick cloak. His corporation could withstand the elements better than humans could, but that didn’t mean it was completely immune. His shoes were also not the best type for walking and they were getting rather stiff, leaving his feet quite sore. Perhaps he should have gone for a more simplistic wardrobe. Oh well, what’s done was done and he needed to keep moving if he wanted to make it to the next town before morning.

A howl from the wind blew through the valley and tugged at Aziraphale’s cloak, flitting the material. The angel huffed and pulled it closer to him, keeping his hood pulled around his ears.

By now he was about two miles from the town he’d left and the night was pitch black around him. There weren’t any woods or forest or anything, just a few lonesome trees and shrubs scattered here and there. The area had an abundance of hills and valleys, dotting the land and the path itself wasn’t very straight or stable. Aziraphale could hear rocks and branches threatening to break loose from the trees and the tops of the cliff and fall on him.

His legs quivered as he continued down the path, circling around the bottom of one of the cliffs, a few shrubs blocking the thin crevice where it met the ground from view.

An eerie sensation washed up Aziraphale’s spine. It made him feel very nervous and even a little sick. He didn’t really have a specific name for it and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to put it into words.

He was just being silly. The night and the wind were just playing tricks with his mind.

A shuffle sounded from behind him, scratching against the dirt path.

An animal. That’s what it was. Just a fox or a groundhog scuttling across the path.

The anxiety in his chest began to deepen and he did his best to keep his thoughts under control when a ragged man stepped out in front of him.

“Well no…isn’t this interesting.” He said with a wicked grin, his face had the same sneaky and underhanded look of a weasel.

Aziraphale gulped. “G-good evening, my dear fellow.” He said nervously.

The ragged man took a few steps closer to Aziraphale.

“Where’s a fat, rich man like you headed on a night like this?” He asked

Aziraphale began backing away. “I-I’m on my way to Othona. I hope to offer some aid to the poor there.”

The ragged man took a few steps closer. “Ain’t that nice.” Aziraphale gave him a weak, frightened smile. “But you’ve got some poor blokes here right now.”

Something firm bumped Aziraphale’s back and when he looked up, he saw a large muscular, angry man looking down at him. He was a towering beast of a human and he was looking at Aziraphale the way a soldier looks at a criminal marked for execution.

“Oh, w-well I have some extra coins. Plenty of gold to go around, there’s no need for-“

The thinner and shorter of the two, the one in front of Aziraphale, grabbed a hold of Aziraphale’s cloak, the grin still on his face.

“I noticed you’ve got quite a few fine clothes on you.” The thin man said. “They look quite uncomfortable, don’t they Joshua?” The man addressed his angry looking friend. The larger man grunted in response. “Why don’t we unburden you there, friend?”

“N-no! Please!” Aziraphale screamed, dashing away. A large, firm hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back. One of the two slammed his fist into Aziraphale’s stomach. The angel hunched in on himself, clutching his abdomen. The other man gave his back a shove and Aziraphale went crashing into the dirt.

“G-gentlemen, please don’t do this. You can take anything I have. Just please don’t hurt-”

He was cut off by a sharp kick to the ribs. A guttural cough forced its way up his throat. One of the thugs grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him to his feet. The other delivered a punch to his face. Then a second and third. Several in succession, each one more painful than the last. He lost count of how many he’d been dealt but soon they stopped, only for him to be shoved from one rough set of hands to the other. One hand grabbed his hair, yanking his head up so he could see the thinner, weaselly man grinning at him, twirling a knife between his fingers as he stepped closer to Aziraphale. The angel struggled only to feel the cold blade under his chin. The thug chuckled at him as he dangled the knife teasingly in front of Aziraphale’s eyes, wide with fear. He gripped the hilt and gave a quick slice to Aziraphale’s cheek, which began bleeding. The thug laughed again and pocketed the knife before he began beating Aziraphale all over his body. His face, stomach, chest, everywhere. The larger man had his arm pinned behind his back, twisting it firmly. A weak cry of pain came from the angel as well as a few tears from his eyes.

After his entire body was covered in bruises and more than a few cuts, he was thrown to the ground again. He was too weak and terrified to fight back so the best he could do was pathetically cover his head.

The thinner man pounced on Aziraphale’s feet, unbuckling his shoes and tugging them off, then yanking off his silk stockings, exposing his legs and feet to the freezing night air. The other, burlier man tore the cloak from his shoulders, tying it around his own neck before grabbing at the tunic.

“Careful not to rip it!” The thinner man barked.

The second man said nothing as he flipped Azirpahale onto his back, looking into the angel’s terrified eyes as he began undoing the buttons down the front of his chest, exposing the cotton undergarment.

Aziraphale began to squirm, uncomfortably cold and not wanting in the slightest to continue to be undressed by these foul men. The larger man gripped Aziraphale’s hair again and pulled his own knife out of his pocket, pressing the sharp tip to the thin cotton covering Aziraphale’s chest, ripping it slightly and drawing blood, which began to soak into the white fabric.

“Still.” He growled.

Aziraphale gulped. “Y-yessir.” He squeaked, his voice raspy.

The thug finished unbuttoning the tunic and tugged it off Aziraphale’s shoulders, folding it with a reverence and gentleness that Aziraphale was not offered. They unbuckled his belt and slipped it from around his waist, taking the large pouch of coins tied to it. Finally, they yanked his tourers down, pulling them over his feet and searching the pockets, where they found another small pouch of gold. The stolen clothes were folded and the coins disappeared into pockets. The angel considered himself lucky that his undergarments were plain or else they likely would have stolen those as well and left him completely naked. Then again, they were already torn in a few places and stained with blood so they likely wouldn’t be worth very much.

The two gave Aziraphale a final once over before the larger man dragged Aziraphale behind a nearby bush and the thinner of the two delivered a final kick to the angel’s stomach before they ran off ran off into the night, their arms full of stolen goods.

Aziraphale lay trembling on the side of the road, twigs and leaves from the shrub jabbing at his face, his body sore and flecked with horrid aches. Every breath hurt and he was almost certain he had several broken ribs. The wind bit at his bare feet, legs, neck, hands, and face and the thin undergarment did little to shield the rest of his body. The harsh blows his stomach had been dealt left him queasy and nauseous but he didn’t have any stamina to roll over and vomit. The only movement he could manage was to weakly fold his arms into his chest and shiver, hoping beyond hope someone would find him.

* * *

Why Crowley had picked tonight to travel was a mystery to anyone. It was cold, windy, and utterly miserable. Normally, Crowley was a fan of misery. Was all for it in every sense, but not when he was the one who was miserable. And this weather was nothing if not miserable. Crowley should have counted himself lucky that it wasn’t raining or snowing. That didn’t stop him from being utterly grumpy, but he was just glad he didn’t have to deal with that kind of rubbish.

He pulled his cloak tighter around himself, letting out an annoyed grunt. Why was it so bloody cold? Who’s bright idea was it to make things so cold?  
A little growl worked its way out of his throat followed by a groan.

Wait.

That groan wasn’t from him.

He looked around. Not far from the path was a pale leg sticking out from under a bush. Probably some hungover, bastard. What kind of idiot came out into the middle of nowhere when they were drunk? In the middle of a windstorm no doubt?

Humans were a strange bunch.

He decided to leave the poor sod alone until he stepped in a puddle of something. Blood.

Okay, less than ideal but somebody would find this poor bugger. This wasn’t his problem, he was a demon for Satan’s sake, he didn’t go around helping people.

“Gabriel…Please…Michael…Someone…Please…” They were out to someone? Those names…they were calling out to the Archangels. “Crowley…Crowley…please…someone help…” He knew that voice.

He turned and pulled the shrub aside, pulling Azirpahale out from underneath it, almost gasping in a very undemonic manner when he saw the state of the angel.

There were cuts and bruises all over the angel’s face. His nose was bleeding, there was a large gash on his cheek, and his left eye was swollen shut. His clothes were gone leaving him in nothing but a thin cotton undershirt that went just past his knees. The fabric was stained with blood and torn in several paces. He looked like he’d gotten a really bad beating and despite the chill in the air, he was sweating. Good grief, how long had he been out here practically naked?!

Crowley set his hand on Aziraphale’s forehead. Fuck he was burning! The demon pulled off his cloak and set it on the ground next to Aziraphale, lifting the angel into his arms and set him down onto the spread out cloak. The angel let out a loud groan as he was moved.

“I’m sorry, Angel. I know this is gonna hurt.” Crowley said.

He took the corners of the cloak and wrapped the soft fabric around Aziraphale, swaddling him like an infant.

Now came the hard part, getting him somewhere safe. The nearest town was Durolitum, two miles away. Crowley wasn’t strong enough to carry him that long, at most he could manage half a mile. While the demon adored Aziraphale’s plump, strong frame, he knew his own spindly body wouldn’t be enough to carry him. Shit, what to do?

Donkey. He needed a donkey. Or a mule or something. A quick demonic miracle found a sturdy donkey waiting for them the whole time. In fact, he’d left Othona with a donkey. That was the story he was going with.

That was a decently sized miracle he’d used but hopefully, nobody downstairs would notice. That was a big “hopefully”. He’d be utterly screwed if someone found out that he’d helped an angel. Then again, he’d be screwed if they found out he was friends with an angel. That he lo…

“Ngk.” Crowley grunted, forcing the thoughts from his head as he swept the unconscious and shivering angel back into his arms and carried him over to the donkey. He set Azirpahale in the saddle, the angel slumping against the animal’s soft neck.

“Mmmph.” Aziraphale murmured.

“C’mon, stay with me, Angel. I’m gonna get you somewhere warm.”

“Crowley…someone help…”

“I’m right here, Angel. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

He moved to snap his fingers to summon another cloak but he’d already used a bigass miracle to summon the donkey and if he used another one so soon, somebody might notice. Eh, he didn’t need a cloak.

Once Aziraphale was in the saddle, Crowley took a hold of the reins and been guiding the donkey down the dirt path as another gust of wind tore at his tunic. The wind was going to the south as Crowley, the donkey, and Aziraphale were headed north, meaning that they were headed directly into the wind. Crowley’s eyes were dry and irritated in no time, his entire face was freezing and he couldn’t feel his hands but he had to keep moving. He’d go until he dropped.

They made it back to Durolitum in about 45 minutes. The donkey wasn’t happy but Crowley didn’t give a flying fuck about the donkey. Well, he gave enough of a fuck to leave it with a poor family that he knew needed a pack animal. He was sentencing it to a life of hard labor, Crowley told himself. He wasn’t doing that donkey a favor and he _definitely_ wasn’t giving it a loving home.

The family didn’t live too far from on inn and Crowley was able to carry the unconscious angel across the road, bursting through the door.

“Someone get the innkeeper! My ang-…my friend needs help!”

A scrawny man, perhaps in his late forties, wearing a brown tunic stepped out from being the counter and rushed over to Crowley, gasping when he said the figure in his arms.

“Brother Fell?!” He nearly shrieked. “What happened to him?”

“Bandits. I found him on the side of the road half dead.” Crowley explained, looking from Aziraphale to the innkeeper.

“I told him!” The scrawny man lamented. “I told him it wasn’t safe to travel at night! I should have insisted-”

“Yeah you should have.” Crowley snapped, narrowing his eyes behind his dark glasses. “Maybe if you had let him stay here, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“I tried!” The innkeeper said, dejected. “I offered him a room, no payment needed but he just wouldn’t listen! He insisted he had people in the next town he needed to help.” Crowley could sense that the man wasn’t lying. Aziraphale had refused lodging and willingly made the journey at night, going through a windstorm to get there? Crowley smiled. His stubborn angel.

“I’ll fetch the doctor.” The innkeeper said.

“No.” Crowley protested. If a human doctor examined Aziraphale they might notice that he wasn’t human and he could get in big trouble for that. “I can take care of him.” He said, a bit of a weakness to his voice. “Are there any rooms left?”

“Yes, follow me.” The innkeeper grabbed an iron ring of keys and a lantern, leading the demon up the stairs. “I take it you’d like one with a fireplace?” Crowley nodded.

The innkeeper fished a large key from the ring and unlocked a door on the right side of a narrow hallway. It was scarce except for a bed, wardrobe, desk, table, and fireplace, which the innkeeper was beginning to fill with logs from a nearby pile on the floor next to it. Crowley set Aziraphale down on the bed, unwrapping the cloak a little so he could move his limbs but still keeping it loosely wrapped around him so he’d stay warm.

A scratching noise came from behind, the innkeeper trying (and failing) to light the fire. Crowley rolled his eyes and soon there was a spark and a crackle, giving way to a roaring fire, the innkeeper none the wiser that he wasn’t the one who lit it.

Crowley meanwhile busied himself with tucking the thin blanket around Aziraphale.

“Can I get anything else sir?” The innkeeper asked.

“Yeah. Some more blankets. And some tea and broth. Or porridge. Whatever, just as long as it’s warm and easy to swallow.”

The innkeeper gave him a curt nod and called for a servant, whispering to her and sending her off down the hall. The innkeeper himself hurried back downstairs, leaving Crowley sitting alone at Aziraphale’s bedside.

“Damn it, Angel.” Crowley muttered. “What were you thinking? Going out in this weather? With bandits everywhere?” He tucked a light blonde curl behind the angel’s ear.

The young woman came back with an armload of blankets and a few smaller cloths, which she handed to Crowley as she began to lay the blankets on top of Aziraphale. When she was done, she looked at Crowley.

“You’re going to look after him?” She asked. Crowley nodded. “You’d besttake good care of him. Brother Fell saved my little brother’s life. He’s a good man.”

Crowley gave her a nod and she scurried off again. After another fifteen minutes, the innkeeper returned with a tray of tea, soup, porridge, and an empty bowl. Tucked under his arm was a jug, following close behind was another servant with a second jug, a set of cups, and a box of bandages. The innkeeper set the tray and jug on the table, pouring the water from the jug into the empty bowl as the other servant handed the bandages to Crowley.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Crowley wordlessly shook his head and the innkeeper left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving Crowley alone with Aziraphale once again. Crowley sighed, soaking one of the cloths with hot water and laying it over Aziraphale’s forehead to try and bring down the fever. He soaked another cloth and began to clean and bandage the bleeding wounds, there was unfortunately nothing he could do for the bruises. After a few minutes, Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open and he began looking around, sputtering fevered nonsense.

“Easy, now.” Crowley said gently. “Calm down there, Angel.”

Aziraphale blinked a few times, letting the eye that wasn’t swollen shut come into focus.

“C-Crow-ley?” He croaked. “What ha-“ A dry cough came from the angel’s throat.

“Hang on,” Crowley said, filling the clay cup with water from the second jug. Cup in hand, he sat down on the bed next to Aziraphale, gently cradling his head. “Drink this, it’ll help you feel better.” He instructed as he lifted the cup to Aziraphale’s lips. The water was gone in less than a minute and Aziraphale looked a small bit better, his breathing was beginning to even out again.

“C-Crowley?” Aziraphale gasped again. He looked exhausted.

“You should sleep a little more, Angel. When you wake up, you can try eating a bit.” Aziraphale’s eyes kept drooping and he practically had to force them back open.

“Wan’ stay ‘wake…” Aziraphale muttered.

“Not gonna happen.” Crowley answered with a little smirk, tucking one of the extra blankets around Aziraphale before sitting back down next to him. Almost on instinct, the angel leaned closer to Crowley, resting his head against the demon’s shoulder. Crowley gently ran his fingers through the blonde curls. “Just rest.” Crowley soothed. “I’ll be here.” In no time, Aziraphale was fast asleep again. Crowley of course refused to move, even as night melted into day and he began to feel slightly tired as well. He was too anxious to actually sleep, and of course he couldn’t risk moving and disturbing Aziraphale, and the anxiety didn’t ease until Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open again, much clearer this time.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale murmured. “What are you doing here? What hap-“

Before he could stop himself, Crowley had thrown his arms around the angel, hugging him as tightly as he could. “Don’t scare me like that again, Angel.” Crowley whispered.

Aziraphale could feel the demon trembling. “It’s alright, my dear. I’m alright.”

“You almost weren’t, Angel. You could have died out there! What were you thinking going out at night like that? This place is crawling with bandits and-” Aziraphale winced, either in pain or embarrassment. Damn it, Crowley take it easy. What’s wrong with you? Yelling at him like that. He’s the one who got attacked, it’s not his fault! Crowley sighed, steadying himself. “I…I’m just glad you’re safe, Aziraphale.” Crowley whispered. There were so many things swirling around in his mind, not just thoughts; emotions, fears, possibilities of what could have happened or…what would happen if anyone found out.

The demon pushed it all away, focussing on the angel before him.

Aziraphale smiled.

“Thank you, dear boy.”

“Eh, ’s nothing.

“No, really, Crowley.” The angel’s voice was smooth and tired but full of passion. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done were you not there.”

Crowley turned away, not wanting the angel to see the rapidly deepening blush dancing across his face.

“Hungry, Angel?” Crowley asked. “I had them bring some broth. Or there’s porridge if you’d prefer.”

“Some broth sounds quite lovely, dear. I’m still feeling a bit chilled.”

Crowley passed the bowl to Aziraphale, who found that it was the perfect temperature, and tossed another log onto the fire while the angel carefully sipped the broth.

“I can leave ‘f you want.” Crowley offered. “Give you some time to yourself.”

“I’d erm…” Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to look embarrassed. “If I’m being honest, I’d much rather if you stayed. Only if you’d like, you probably have important work to do.

Crowley sat back down by the bedside. “You want me to stay, I’ll stay.”

Aziraphale gave him a smile as he continued to sip the broth and the two spent the rest of the night chatting away, the terrifying ordeal quite forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> Now that I'm done with schoolwork until my winter class starts next week, all I do now is either knit or write fan fiction or draw. Or nap. There is no in-between. But hey, no complaints here.  
> Thank you for reading. I hope you liked that story. I thought a nice little "Good Samaritan" parallel would be fun, after all it does fit. Aziraphale's coworkers don't care about him and Crowley, who is supposed to be his sworn enemy, would move heaven and earth just for him to be okay. If you like this, kudos and comments are always appreciated. Thank you all so much for reading and have a lovely day.


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